


I Know You

by shesnotme681



Category: Gypsy (US TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesnotme681/pseuds/shesnotme681
Summary: What happens after Diane/Jean spots Sydney in the school auditorium?





	I Know You

Diane felt her presence before Jean turned her head and saw her. Sidney, standing in the aisle, leaning against the wall of the auditorium, her arms crossed protectively over her middle. Betraying nothing, Jean continued her speech, extolling the virtues of therapy, the complexities of the human mind and the behaviors to which they lead. It wasn’t lost on her, though, that much of what she said of people and their propensity to inflict the most pain on those they hold most dear was something she excelled at. And, relishing the unique joy that comes with using a skill to the height of its success, she was addicted to it. She was also addicted to what it brought her, the young woman whose eyes seemed to be trying their best to penetrate her from where she stood. 

As Jean finished her presentation, she stole a quick glance over to the spot where Sidney had been, and took her seat beside Michael. “How was it?” she asked, seeking reassurance, a foothold in a spiral that was about to consume her life in totality as soon as they left the room. 

“You were great, honey. Really, you were.”

“Thanks, I thought maybe it was too much?”

“No. No, not at all. Are you OK, Jean? You look a bit unwell.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Maybe just a bit of stage fright,” Jean said with a soft laugh. She felt Michael’s eyes boring into her. 

Everyone was trying to see beneath every facade she’d vainly tried to hold up before her. Was it any use any longer? She’d only find out if she spoke with Sydney, which seemed an impossibly daunting proposition. “I think I’m going to step outside and get a drink of water. I’ll be right back,” Jean told Michael, exiting the row and striding up the aisle to face the person who’d come to let her know she now knew the truth beneath her lies, or at least some of it.

Pushing through the doors at the back of auditorium, it took Jean a moment to regain her senses, blinded by the florescent lights of an elementary school hallway, papered with drawings and crayon-drawn poems about pumpkins and leaves and Halloween’s changelings. At the far end of the hall, near a set of exit doors was Sydney, standing out like a buffalo in the plains, dark and feral. Jean took a breath to compose herself, willing herself to take control of the situation, of herself. 

She was not prepared, as she got within spitting distance of Sydney, to see a smile break out across those full lips.

“Dr. Holloway.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an accusation either. It was just a statement of fact, and she let it sit there between them, a chasm and its bridge all in one. For Jean, it was disarming. Her shoulders fell down a notch or two, and she returned Sydney’s smile sheepishly, like a child caught with a  
snack it was forbidden. 

“Hi, Sydney.”

“Quite a speech you gave in there. I learned loads.”

“I imagine you did.”

“About you.”

“I knew what you meant.” Sydney nodded. Then shook her head, still not quite believing where she’d found herself. In well-to-do suburbia tracking down her 40something lover to her daughter’s school. It was surreal. All the more so because of the relatively mundane, antiseptic surroundings of the fateful confrontation. It’s not as though Sydney hadn’t been keenly aware that Diane was hiding details — many details — about her life from her. But she didn’t conceive that the details were the cookie cutter stuff of this particular sort of life. 

“Right, well. I know you now. And, now you know I know.” Sydney said this giving Jean one last look over before pushing her way outside. As she opened the door of the old VW van she’d borrowed from her bandmate, she heard Jean’s purposeful footsteps coming across the parking lot. When she looked up, she saw the woman who’d wrecked her the moment she’d walked into the coffee shop, scared but determined. 

“You don’t know me. You don’t know me, Syd. I… I hardly know me. But I want to, I want you to. I need to go back in there. Dolly. My daughter. Well, you know. Anyway, I’ll… I’ll text you. Please answer.” And then she’d turned around and walked quickly back to the school, leaving behind a Sydney who very much wished she hadn’t hoped she’d felt Jean’s lips on hers before she walked off.


End file.
